Here is a short story that I've been writing. I share it with you here, because it draws a good deal of inspiration from the Urban Rival's website. Or more, specifically, the Freak's clan. It is NOT a direct fan-fiction, though I'm sure you will spot some of the characters while reading it.

The work below is part of a greater work of short stories, that I've been writing in my limited spare time. The collection is entitled 'From A Bird's Eye View'. All of the stories within the collection focus around a very unusual perspective.

The story below is one of the stories within the collection. It is called 'Hear The Crowd Roar' and is one of those stories you'll need to read multiple times in order to discover all the hidden meanings and allusions.

I'm NOT a professional writer by trade and this is only the first draft, a good deal of editing is still required on this particular work. However, I hope you will enjoy it all the same.

Though his eyes are no longer on me, their weight lingers. Ever since my capture, that gaze has turned my bowels to sludge. I had never thought I could be so afraid of anything. The mere mention of his name tornadoes me away to Oz, where I won't come back till the Wicked Witch is dead. The Wicked Witch known as... Fear.

And I have few friends in Oz to help me on my way. The Tin Man is my nemesis here, strong, powerful, heartless, his chassis reflects light, just like Oren's sword. The scarecrow always by his side, still, silent, brainless, commanded only by the wizard himself, the Maestro, his master and commander.

No, this cowardly lion has but only one friend in these parts. Her... my Dorothy, the one who wishes she was as I was once. And sometimes, she IS the pretty girl who simply wishes to return with me, back to Kansas. But more often, she is the Wicked Witch herself, doing everything in her power to prevent it.

How long has it been since Oren and I first did battle on the plains? Why, how long is a piece of String?

He'd come upon us like a charging bull, nothing but red to begin with and nothing but red at its end. He'd deftly lopped off the proud, noble head of my wife, as if it had never even once, adorned atop her shoulders, in that graceful way that I was so sure it had. He'd even stopped to smile, but then... I was upon him. Rushing, furious, in a maniacal rage. Foolish instincts. Never stopping to consider. Nothing in my head to heed.

Desperately, I tried for his throat and twice I found it. But it was thick and impenetrable, like trying to chop a tree with a toothpick. He'd swotted me back like a horse fly, crushing me against a jutting rock, ribs broken, teeth missing, my skull singing the song of defeat.

He'd raised his sword above me like Damocles, nothing but triumph written on his ape-like face. But, instead, he'd turned on my children...

Picking them up like newborn chicks, still blind with innocence. Once more he'd paused to grin his stupid grin, long enough so that my youngest could have picked out the different bits of creatures stuck between his teeth. And then, one by one, he'd lowered them onto the edge of his burning sword so that they sizzled like
little sausages.

And there, from the rock, practically dead, a father watched his children turn to crispy shadows. I watched them drip their juices, little puddles slightly dampening the earth. And it was there, I heard their first words.

"Help us... save us... mercy... father..."

Heard the words turn to screams and the screams to silence. And when the only sound was a crackle and a spit... A father watched his children eaten.

The Grotesque thrusts my children into his gaping maw and pulls them back out for me to see. Repeating this process all the time in cursed repetition. In, out, in, out, in, out, perversely sexual.

All I ever loved, now lives within the belly of the Grotesque.

All my pretty ones? Did you say all? O hell-kite! All? What, all my pretty chickens and their dam. At one fell swoop?

And then he came for me. I tried begging. Not for my life, no, to end my life, to finish it. Leave me with my wife and children, leave me with my pride, leave me with my honor...

He left me and the world went dark...

And when I awoke, SHE was standing over me. She wishes she was as I was once, I see that clearly. I see pity in her eyes, a knife in her hands, a tear on her cheek. And I prayed, as I had never prayed before, for her eyes to tell the truth... But all she gave me was a lie.

She cuts my hair. Leaves me balding and deformed. Freakish. She is my Delilah, my betrayer. Once proud and mighty Sampson has now lost his pride, his honor, his courage.

Curse this repetition, this repetition, this repetition... Endless, day in, day out... waiting. Waiting for a chance, waiting to come back from Oz. I've been waiting for too long and can wait no longer, I've begun to wait in madness...

But... I wait my turn.

I know that it will come and so I wait it patiently. My face betrays not a hint of anticipation and yet, I'm ravenous for its birth. Hungry for my absolution.

The crowd is clapped out, the bucket of fish is all but empty. Desks begin to beckon back their servants. Mister Boris, ringleader of the animals that took away my pride, lays the table for dessert. For my dessert. Freaks in mind and body, breath sighs of relief. A job well done. Only an inch remains and that inch is mine.

"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, Freaks in mind and body... Ah, its been a heck of a ride ain't it? We's gots one last speculatacular for youz guys, cuz well, ya been one fanfreakintastic audience!"

"I know, I know, but you can come back and see us next year and we'll have a whole new feast of Freaks for youz to enjoy. Now, before I bring him out, remember to grab a copy of 'The big bumper book of Freaks' on ya way out. At 44.95 it's a freakin' steal and we's only gots so many copies, so youz just better run to get one, before they all go finito".

"Now for this final act, we's gonna need Oren the Gigantic to come back on stage... just in case... But never fear folks, everything is perfectly safe. We caught this son of a beast out in the Badlands. He'd been getting into villages and making off with the kiddies... nasty business. Lucky uncle Boris was here to save the day, eh?
But have no fear... now... he's as gentle as a wittle pussycat and twice as friendly!".

Mr. Boris's lies will be his downfall. He'll probably go back to selling second-hand cars in the cesspit he once called home. A pity I won't be around to see it, Oren's sword will see to that. See the sword, see it well. But not before I kill her.

I wait my turn.
All eyes are center stage.
This will be a night to remember.
I'm changed, but it'll be too late before they can know it.
We lay together once, not as lovers but as kin.
Death is coming all the same.
Our Father who art in Heaven, give us this day our daily meat.
I'm ravenous for its birth. Hungry for my absolution.
I can see her, see her fine.
Enter me then.
One simple inch.
So small and insignificant and yet it tethers universes...

The Urban Rivals team is made by lovers of all kind of Collectibles Cards Games and Trading Cards Games like: Magic the Gathering, Dominion, Vampire, Yu-Gi-Oh!, Pokemon, Wakfu TCG, Assassin Creed Recollection, Shadow Era, Kard Kombat and Might & Magic Duel of Champions.